Death of Me
by xhotel.california
Summary: In the midst of the chaos they thrived on, one thing was certain: they'd be the death of each other. KimbleexOC
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alrighty now. I'm a good... 5 and a half chapters into this one already, so look forward to frequent updating.

I would like to point out right now that anyone looking for a fluffy fic should leave now. This is not a sweet love story in the slightest.

It also follows the Brotherhood storyline.

Warnings: Gore, violence, eventual smut, and general psychopathy.

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 _All you sinners stand up and sing, "Hallelujah!"_

Chapter One: _  
_ _Of Green Eyes and Red Stones_

* * *

Blood-spattered sand, rank with death and decay, was all that lay before him. Nothing but rubble and bodies, a wonderland of destruction that soothed his being to the very core. The anguished cries of pain of those had barely managed to survive his blast, those poor bastards left to bleed to death on the scorching sand, brought a deranged grin to his lips as he watched the chaos unfold.

This was when he knew he was alive. Surrounded by mangled corpses and the dying, _he was alive._

He fed off their pain, used it to remind himself that the numbness deep in his gut was only temporary.

A gunshot from the building beside him brought his focus back to the task at hand and shattered some sorry sod's kneecap. A howl of pain erupted, but no other shot was taken. The sniper was toying with the already suffering people below.

It only further exhilarated the dark haired man.

He never met the sniper who was just as sadistic as he was, but he could always tell when they were the one taking the shots. They always left their prey alive, although the mortality of the wounds depended on the day. Sometimes it was the kneecap that the sniper aimed for, and he'd have accused them of being soft, but some days it was the throat or stomach of the mark that nearly exploded on impact.

Finally, curiosity got the best of him; he simply couldn't take it anymore and had decided to find out whom the sniper was. He gave some speech about remembering the faces of those they killed that weeded out plenty of possibilities in just a few short minutes. No one who had been listening had had the stomach to take the shots his sniper did, let alone the personality to enjoy it.

It wasn't long before a single, small truth came to light: the Military had called for outside black operations agents to clean sweep after every battle. They were kept away from the uniformed soldiers except on the battlefield, where they followed behind with rifles to pick off those left standing or knives to slit the throats of anyone left breathing, and he just _knew_ his sniper was one of them.

He wasn't sure when he became so possessive or began - even mentally - calling the sniper his, but the fact remained that, although the two had never actually met, he felt a deranged sort of kinship with them. The fact that this particular sniper seemed to be the one assigned to cleaning up anyone his explosions left alive or, rather, not injured enough to die even with medical attention, helped matters, too, of course.

The two never met, but he knew they resonated on the same wavelength.

And then the higher-ups had given him the stone - the tiny red shard that held immeasurable power - and let him off his leash. Told him to kill as many as possible and he had no problem filling such an order.

He thrived on the death and pain that surrounded him. It invigorated him beyond words, and, as his body count climbed, he practically vibrated with the thrill of it all.

 _He was alive_.

The building fell before him, the explosion rocking his footing with its shockwave as he watched. He watched the blood pool and the people gagging and coughing it up, watched red-eyed faces contort in agony before the light in their irises finally fell extinguished.

But there was one face in the rubble, one that he swore he would never forget. It stared straight back at him, devoid of pain despite the owner's leg and abdomen having been shredded in the explosion, holding only anger and hatred. Blue eyes widened as he realized the female's own hues were a bright, murderous green, not red, her hair blond, not white, and her skin far too pale for her to have been an Ishvallan.

The rifle next to her and the lack of any sadistically playful gunshots whispered her identity to him like a sour note in his perfect symphony of death and destruction.

x . x . x . x . x

His eyes snapped open at the memory of those green hues. The face was blurry after all these years, and he could no longer remember the finer features that had hidden under the blood and grime, the shape of the woman's nose or jaw, if the slope of her cheekbones had been soft or sharp. But he hadn't paid much attention to those features, anyway. Not with those eyes piercing him in a way he hadn't expected, striking him to the core. They blamed him, and, for once, that had meant something. For once, he cared about the fact that someone blamed him for their misfortune, and beyond just an amused smirk and a feral laugh.

He remembered that hate-laced green like it was yesterday. He'd memorized it and kept it close. His reminder, his only regret of Ishval.

Although... _regret_ probably wasn't the correct word for it. That dance of anger and hate and the promise of vengeance swirling in a green deeper than any emerald and brighter than any star... A shiver of delight ran down his spine, an excited hum thrumming through his entire being at just the memory of it. Oh, he could damn near get off to that memory alone.

He had had the time of his life in that desert, but _that_... oh, that had left him tingling. He cherished that moment more than any other of the war.

The look of the utterly betrayed shone in that green, one that could only mean that unnamed female had felt the same unspoken connection that he had.

Staring at that stone, in that stuffy cell, all he had were the memories of the war. The memory of killing those officers for the sheer hell of it, of the blood-soaked sand and the heat of the flames and the lullaby of agony. Those officers' screams of "traitor" were so damn _pale_ in comparison to that shade of hardened green and the dry but somehow soft-looking lips that mouthed the word even though he'd never hear the voice behind it.

He had always imagined what that voice had sounded like. Had it been choked and rough with pain? Had it dropped an octave in anger? Had it held the same unrelenting fierceness that her eyes had? Had the word been a whisper of anguish or a growl of hatred? Had she even spoken it out loud at all? Had it been her last word before slowly bleeding to death, or had it been a declaration of her determination to survive?

Maybe she was still out there somewhere, an automail leg as a reminder of him - his mark left permanently carved out of her body. That odd possessiveness stirred in him again, as it had back then, and a smirk twisted his lips as he thought about it. What he wouldn't give to see that look again, to finally hear that voice. Maybe, if he ever did see her again, he'd manage to make her scream.

Footsteps approaching down the hall brought him out of his reverie.

"Visitors," he spoke aloud to himself, a small habit he'd gained after years of being isolated like this, then promptly swallowed his little secret shard of euphoria. No need for anyone to find it now.

"On your feet, Kimblee," the guard's rather gruff voice barked at him, "you've been released." There was a reluctance in his voice that the long-haired man would have smirked at if he weren't shocked at the actual words.

Someone decided to let him go? That seemed rather odd, given most people's natural distaste for him and his thinking. But he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not when it came knocking with his freedom in tow.

His white suit, still so pristine after these long years, no longer fit as well as it used to - he'd definitely lost some muscle tone while sitting in that damned cell for so long - but it looked good enough, he supposed. He wasn't exactly out to impress anyone, after all. Still, his comfort level dictated that he'd have to have it taken in at some point.

"So, who made this decision?" He questioned, almost innocently as the guards followed him outside, a brow arching elegantly toward the man to his right.

"I didn't say you could talk, Kimblee," the stout man snapped back, clearly not wanting to discuss the release of the prison's most dangerous inmate. The taller man supposed he could understand that. No one liked talking about their defeat, but it only made it more fun to rub a little salt in the wound.

"Must have been someone pretty high up," he dug deeper, twisting the blade any which way he could. There was always more than one way to toy with a man.

"Shut your mouth," was the reply spat at the back of his head, and it was all Kimblee could do not to outwardly smirk at the rise he was getting. "You must have some kind of big connections to avoid the death sentence." The suited man wasn't sure whether that was an admission of defeat or a jab at him, but it didn't much matter. "It makes me _sick_." Ah, there it was, the grumbled, half-hearted, utterly useless, attempted-swing at his ego.

"Nope," he drawled the word a bit, just to be an ass about it. "No connections. I just deserve to go free," he'd have added some coy little smile, but he had a better trick up his sleeve for this. One final twist of the blade, as it were.

"You really are psychotic," Kimblee could practically _hear_ the other man's fist clench and had to actually restrain himself from laughing outright. As if he would ever take that as an insult. "What kind of political move is this?, letting a nut job like you out?" The guard continued to seethe, and Kimblee allowed him the moment to verbally vent his frustrations. He'd get his stab in soon enough.

The sunlight that hit his face nearly blinded him after spending so long in that dim-lit hellhole. Shading his face with his hat, he waited a moment, still at the armored door until his eyes finally adjusted again to the unfamiliar brightness of the outside world. The gate was in sight, and soon, it would all be official. He'd be a free man with a Philosopher's Stone in his gut. Oh, the havoc he could wreak... He was about as giddy as a schoolboy at the idea, and nearly shaking with anticipation.

Maybe he'd track down those green eyes. He hummed lowly and smirked to himself at the thought, the flash of that face blurred by time and those so violently angry eyes. Yes, he'd track them down.

But he had one more thing he had to do here.

"You know, Warden," planting a most convincingly warm smile he could fake across his features, he turned to the guards behind him, holding out a single hand in a gesture of feigned gratitude, "I appreciate you taking care of me." He lied through his teeth, but he could be a damn good liar when he wanted to be.

"Tch, I hope I never see you again," the other muttered, taking his hand without much hesitation.

The red sparks were immediate as their hands clasped, the alchemist's mouth twitching as the bomb formed around the other male's thick wrist. How he had missed this feeling. The feel of the power coursing through his veins, the rush of watching the stone and his alchemy melding together to form his will. He had so _missed_ this.

"Just my way of saying thanks," he placed his white hat to his chest and bowed his head - if only to cover the smirk playing across his lips and the mirth dancing in his blue hues.

He watched with cold amusement as the man begged and fretted over his new bracelet, trying oh so hard not to ruin it all by bursting out in gleeful laughter at the warden's hysterics. He loved this, rendering helpless those who thought themselves above him even just for a moment. Putting people in their place firmly below him, where they belonged, and using them as playthings in his twisted game of pain and death.

The sight of the balding man nearly reduced to tears by the time the little chick popped out of the "bomb" with an innocent little _tweet_ would have had Kimblee doubled over in laughter if he wasn't so set out on having the last word in his little quip-war with the warden.

"It's just a harmless toy," he lifted a single brow as he spoke, as if offended, "I thought you could give it to your kid or something," and then he had to turn away to hide the grin tugging the corners of his mouth.

Freedom was sweet, indeed.

"Farewell, _Warden_ ," he left, then, hat just the slightest bit off center on his head as he did, leaving the warden on the ground gaping at him.

His shoulders squared as the gated clattered closed behind him.

"What next?" He asked himself - really, he'd have to stop with this habit now that he was out of that cell - though whether he meant in his hunt for that cold green gaze or what other trouble to cause, even he wasn't quite sure as he looked down either direction.

A horn honking from a Military car answered his question for him. He didn't know whether he should be delightedly anticipating whatever they had cooked up for him to do, or disappointed his hunt would be delayed.

"It's been a while, Kimblee," the unfamiliar man behind the wheel spoke in a very familiar voice as he took his place in the backseat of the car. He eyed him until his true face was revealed. "Congrats on the early release," Envy grinned darkly over his shoulder at the newly released convict.

"So, I take it I have you guys to thank," he smirked as the other slid back into the visage of some blond Military grunt.

"Yep, we could use a little extra help," Kimblee knew the other loathed to admit such a thing. Seeking help from a "lowly human"? Oh, today was a good day to watch people squirm.

"My first day out of jail, and I already have a job," he grinned at the prospect. Such a sweet day to be him.

"You remember Doctor Marcoh, don't you?" Envy wasted no time getting down to business - something Kimblee had always appreciated in the homunculus. There was no beating around the bush with him.

"The scientist who created the Philosopher's Stone?" He questioned back, tempted to cant his head to the side. "How could I ever forget him?"

"It _appears_ he's escaped," Kimblee easily caught the frustration and irritation in the other's voice, although it may have been more difficult for others to notice. "Or... we think he has."

"You _think_?" He urged, wanting to glean as much information from the homunculus as possible.

"We're still sorting out all of the details," the driver explained further, "one of the chimeras that we had watching over him has gone missing. Marcoh's specialty was transmuting living tissue. He _might_ have used the chimera in his place." The frustration came even thicker the more the other spoke, and Kimblee watched him carefully for any signs of lashing out.

"And as if that wasn't bad enough," he continued, and Kimblee could _hear_ his lip curling, "we think he might have escaped with an Ishvallan warrior known as 'Scar'." Kimblee's eyes narrowed at that, something bubbling deep in his chest at the mention.

"Well, how about it? Considering you were the one responsible for the extermination and all," Kimblee was fairly certain there was an insult hidden in there somewhere. _You left survivors_. Well, he'd just have to fix that, then.

"You do have a point," he leaned an elbow out the window of the car, looking out of it and covering his mouth with his hand, more to hide the deep, angered frown there than in actual thought. "It's inexcusable if I let a survivor crawl out of my path of destruction."

"You're free to kill Scar if you want," Envy responded, to which Kimblee replied mentally with a _consider him dead_. "But we do need Marcoh _alive_."

"You released me just for this little errand?" He was skeptical at best. This was something the homunculi could easily handle on their own. And if not, well, he wanted to make Envy admit it.

Envy just chuckled. "After you find Doctor Marcoh, there's a certain little town we'll be asking you to wipe off the map. That's your kind of job, right?" While he did enjoy the idea of being sanctioned to destroy an entire town, he was still rather unimpressed with the answer.

Maybe he just really wanted to hear Envy admit they needed his help for something. Still, he'd take what he could get from them until he had everything he wanted. And if they were setting him loose to do this his way, he may be able to track down some of his own leads along the way.

"It's remarkable how cruel you are," he chuckled, loving every bit of this. He couldn't wait to get back onto the playing field.

Pressing on his stomach, he used the muscles there to push up the stone he'd swallowed.

"It's been too long since I used this," he grinned broadly as he admired the stone - everything about it, from its power to its very color - only to frown questioningly as Envy spoke again.

"I don't know if that one's going to be enough for this job," he practically sang, holding a round version of the stone between two fingers.

"A new stone? Did you use more Ishvallans to make it?"

"We actually used Doctor Marcoh's assistants who helped make the first stone for us," he informed him as Kimblee looked over his new stone and pocketed it.

"Your cruelty is infinite," he knew there was a reason he enjoyed working with these people so much.

"We're sending someone with you, so we have another stop to make," Envy added offhandedly over his shoulder to the man in the backseat. "We don't completely trust her, but she's the best tracker we've got. I'm sure you can sift through any bullshit she flings at you," he shrugged as if it was all of little consequence.

He simply left out that this "partnership" was, in a way, both a gift and a test for said tracker, but if the newly released man had any suspicions, he didn't voice them.

"She's a bounty hunter," the now-blond man continued, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to watch the other's reaction.

Kimblee's upper lip twitched slightly upward. If he was going to have to put with so self-righteous justice nut, a lot more people than just Scar would end up dead.

"I don't think you'll have any trouble with her morals, though," he went on as if reading the alchemist's mind, "seeing as she doesn't have any to begin with."

Now that caught Kimblee's attention. A bounty hunter with a completely lack of moral motivation? Then why did she have such an occupation? For the thrill of the hunt? Perhaps having a partner wouldn't be so bad, after all.

The car came to a stop not too long after, the door on the opposite side of the suited man was jerked open impatiently, but the female on the outside paused when she got a good look at her new partner. All Kimblee could see of her, however, was a pair of black, baggy cargo pants and the hilt of a boot knife.

She promptly slammed the door shut a little too violently and climbed into the front seat instead, completely ignoring Envy's irritated sound.

"Damn princess," he muttered under his breath, but the blond let out a laugh that would have disturbed anyone other than the two men with which she shared the car.

"I'm the fucking queen, sweetheart, and that," she jerked her thumb in the other man's direction, "both pisses me off and amuses me. Good job," she grinned like some wild animal and flung her bag into the back seat of the car, just barely missing the other passenger there.

"Well, you're the most fickle and dangerous of the entourage. We need to keep you interested somehow," Envy gave a little smirk, to which the new arrival simply grinned.

The man didn't speak, but he did raise an eyebrow at the two.

"Oh, don't worry so much, Kimblee," the natural blonde turned to face him, sunglass-covered eyes meeting his own somewhat confused gaze. "I promise this is going to be entertaining as hell."

When his brows twisted into a _very_ confused expression, she laughed even harder.

"It just keeps getting better and better. I wonder how long it'll take to figure it out," she mused to herself, settling in her seat properly for the first time since she got into the vehicle.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Since I'm writing about a chapter a day of this, I figured it was safe to update pretty quickly.

Reviews are love.

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 _You seem so strange to me, I must seem strange to you_

Chapter 2:  
 _Of Puppets and Playthings_

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"He was seen with a middle aged man with black hair, right?" Kimblee questioned the soldier who had given him the report even as he read over it. They needed every detail to be accurate, but his partner... He glanced up to find her staring that the map, hands clasped behind her back, feet shoulder-width apart - a very militaristic stance, he thought, for someone without a uniform - but she didn't seem to be paying any attention to the conversation he was currently having.

"Yes, that's what it said in the report, sir," the young man responded. Kimblee chose to ignore the female clicking her tongue at the other blonde in the room.

"And this was yesterday," he continued, more to himself than anyone else, as he approached the map to stand just behind his companion, perhaps a little closer than was strictly necessary but neither seemed to notice. It seemed she didn't have a concept of personal space, either.

Her finger traced the map along the railway heading west, but otherwise remained silent. It didn't matter, he spoke for her.

"West, huh?" They both seemed to mull it over, both mentally trying to work out anything they could from the information they had.

"Several of our own people were injured while trying to apprehend him," the soldier informed the two of them.

If Kimblee hadn't been so close, he probably wouldn't have caught the muttered words from the female in front of him - who still hadn't bothered to give him her name.

"Like that's actually relevant. Amateurs," her brow rose while Kimblee's gaze slid to the soldier standing off to the side. He hadn't seemed to hear the only woman in the room. The alchemist didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed.

"Scar must be getting desperate," she spoke a bit louder, allowing both of the others in the room to hear her for the first time, "but that could help us. He's leaving us a good trail."

He smirked at her with a small sense of victory, but it fell when he noticed her head canted to the side and her eyes noticeably narrowed, even behind the sunglasses she hadn't bothered to take off.

"Maybe too good a trail," she mumbled to herself. "What don't you want us knowing, Ishvallan?"

While he had thought the same thing just before she said it, he decided not to question her on it just yet. Perhaps later, but not now. They'd see what this lead turned up before he sought any insight she wouldn't freely give.

"Alright, time to get to work," he placed his hat on his head and left the others to follow behind him. Something - although he wasn't quite sure what - swelled up in his chest when his partner fell into step behind him and to the right.

She was letting him call the shots, for now, following behind in whatever he had planned. She'd not get in his way, then. But she'd be strong back up if it came down to it. She wasn't here to hunt Marcoh and Scar, that much was becoming increasingly obvious.

The car ride from Central Command to the train station had been decent. Quiet, the way he liked it, and without too much disruption. He took that time to watch her from the corner of his eye, the way she quickly switched which leg was crossed over which as if suddenly remembering that the other way wasn't actually comfortable, the way her foot constantly bounced as if she simply could not keep still. The twitch in her cheeks whenever the sun hit her just right that told him her eyes were sensitive, hence the constant presence of the sunglasses, the short but shaggy hair that told him she was growing it out after having cut it very short, and the tank top under a light jacket that told him of a tolerance to cooler temperatures.

The slight rise under her loose-fitting jacket that told him she had a shoulder holster concealed under it - gun included - and the weight in the lower pants of her pants that told him she had plenty of spare ammunition on hand. The way she held her arms told him she likely had a blade up each sleeve to accompany the slightly larger one in her boot - though she didn't seem to care how the boot knife pressed against her leg. With those, plus the two guns and the fourth knife - a larger hunting knife, by what he see of it - at her hip, she was armed to the teeth, and by the feel of her, more than willing to use each and every weapon on her.

"Just what kind of trouble are you expecting?" He breathed, more to himself than her, but it seemed she heard him anyway when she grinned over at him. He really needed to break this habit of talking to himself.

"With the way I'm armed?" She chuckled, pressing further back into her seat. "Absolutely none." She locked her hands together behind her head, leaning her head back onto them. A strange smile - a mix of playfulness and something much darker - graced her lips in an expression that seemed oddly familiar.

"Have we met?" He finally asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since she slammed that car door in his face. She just seemed so damn _familiar_.

"Nope," she shook her head then let it lull to the side to face him fully. "But I know you, and if you think hard enough, you know me."

His confusion must have registered on his face because she let out a short laugh and pat him on the head as if he was some pet that hadn't quite yet learned what "sit" meant.

"You'll figure it all out eventually," she assured, moving her hand back behind her head, "and I'm going to be there when the realization hits those pretty blue eyes of yours." With that, she turned her head away again to stare out the window silently.

The silence between them wasn't as uncomfortable as he would have thought. There was no paranoia that one of them would lash out at the other, no bubbling annoyance that often came with his sharing too close a space with any one person for any length of time. He didn't feel the need to keep watching over her as if he'd miss something if he didn't study every detail of her.

But one thing did bother him, and he'd have to get at least this one answer before they went much farther in their journey together.

"You know my name, I think it's fair that I learn yours," he commented almost absently, looking out his own window. He didn't need to look at her to know her shoulders shook with a silent chuckle.

"Why don't we see if you can guess it?" She suggested without looking back at him. Was she planning on making a riddle or game out of every question he asked her?

He had been right; working with a partner was never a good thing.

Kimblee didn't even dignify it with a response; instead, he just tapped his heel impatiently until the car reached the station. He wasn't going to put up with this for very long. He enjoyed toying with people, not being toyed with himself. Maybe he simply wasn't asking the right questions, or maybe he was just being far too entertaining. What would happen if he tried boring the answers out of her?

The car came to a stop and they simultaneously, though silently, got out. Kimblee let the foot soldiers behind him take his bag, but the female slung her worn and beaten pack over her own shoulder. When one of their escorts tried to take it from her out of courtesy, she had his arm in a lock that had even Kimblee wincing in sympathy.

"Hands to yourself," she warned, her voice taking on a dangerous edge that had a shiver of pure excitement skittering down Kimblee's spine. As she let him go, it was obvious she'd dislocated the footman's shoulder and possibly torn a muscle in the arm. "Next time, I won't let you off easy."

As she tossed her shaggy bangs from her face, Kimblee swore he caught a glimpse of that perfect, piercing green behind her sunglasses. But he couldn't be so lucky as to find her this easily, so he simply brushed it off as a trick of the mind. Still, past her trying to use him as a plaything, Kimblee thought he might just end up liking this woman. Or, at least, not hating her so much.

He just needed one detail before he could continue on his search for answers from her.

"Will you just tell me your name already?" He all but growled at her as they began to climb the steps to the train station. "Honestly, it's just a name. How much of your little game could it possibly ruin?"

But her attention, as per usual, was elsewhere, or maybe it was just everywhere at once. Either way, she wasn't focusing on him or his question, causing his brow to twitch in irritation as she stopped dead in her tracks to narrow those covered eyes at a passing, elderly woman.

"Well, aren't you suspicious?" She muttered as alert hues followed the woman down the steps.

"That's not our job," he insisted, trying to pull her attention back to their current situation.

The short-haired woman simply shrugged and resumed making her way up the steps, skipping every other one until she was at the landing and waiting for them. His rather exasperated sigh and minute shake of his head only brought a smirk to her lips.

"Dani," she called back to him, her grin widening as if she had the upper hand in some kind of inside joke he didn't yet understand. "That's what you can call me." She then turned her back on him and headed into the train station.

x . x . x . x . x

"My motive?" She lifted a single brow, shaggy blond hair falling into her questioning eyes as she canted her head ever so slightly to the side in askance.

They'd managed to get onto a train rather easily, and, with a soft touch and a bitten lip at the right official, Dani had commandeered a seat in the dining car for the entire trip, if they wished it. She seemed to prefer having the table between them for whatever reason. He supposed she just wanted something to lean on, by the way she was sitting.

"I'm just curious as to why you decided to work with the homunculi. You don't seem to be someone who would be swayed by a promise of immortality," he explained a bit further, which only gained him a rather indignant look from the female across from him on the train.

"My motive isn't nearly so naive," she snorted and leaned back in her seat. "It's also not as complicated as some moral obligation or wanting the universe to pick the superior being," covered eyes flicked upward to meet his with a small smirk and a shrug. "Nah, it's far more simple than all that and, as Envy said, far more fickle."

"And it is...?" He drawled, for once actually interested in the answer.

Her smirk grew, her fingernail tapping the surface of the table between them. She waited for the train's whistle to blow before give her answer.

"I'm bored, simple as," she returned to staring out the window, piercing hues catching the slightest bit of a questioning frown on her companion's reflection.

"Life isn't as complex as people would like to believe," she leaned a slim but muscled shoulder against the wall of the train car. "Aside from a few small ripples in certain areas, it's rather calm and for the most part peaceful. It's routine, and it's _stagnant._ There's nothing more _boring_ than stagnation. Even when I'm on a job, it's always the same. Ran back home, tried to kill the partner that snitched, got jealous and tried to kill the ex-lover's new flame, blah, blah, blah. But _this_ ," she flicked her hand up to indicate the entirety of the situation that had them here, "this stirs it all up. _This_ makes things interesting."

"Really?" His brow rose in turn. "That's it?"

"That's it. My loyalty is and will always be fluid. This is a good enough reason until a better one presents itself," she shrugged, resting one ankle atop the opposite knee then, as per her usual habit he'd noticed, immediately switched which leg was on top.

"That's why they made me take you along," he nodded understandingly until she snorted.

"Tch, like a small time hunt like this would keep me entertained for long," she tossed her hair then leaned forward on her elbow on the table, tapping her fingernail just in front of him. "It's why they gave _you_ to _me_."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she smirked and shook her head.

"Don't take my fun out of it by making me tell you," she pouted, landing back against her seat with a thud. "It's so much better watching you try to figure it out. Like when I take a shot and everyone else runs around screaming 'where'd it come from'," she chuckled lowly at that and shook her head. "Nothing quite like that look of panic and confusion right before the lights go out, is there, Crimson Alchemist?"

It wasn't the question that had him stiffening, but the knowing tone she used, as if she _knew_ the thrill he got out of it all. As if she _understood_ it.

He wouldn't come right out and ask her anything and knew she'd just give him a laugh and something like "you're no fun" even if he did. So, he'd have to do one of his most hated things: interact with her.

People weren't his strong suit. He liked twisting them into writhing masses of pain and torment. He _hated_ interacting with them more than he had to, hated playing nice, but she was going to make him, if he ever wanted to get those answers.

 _A puppet on a string_ , he thought bitterly as he watched her stare out the window. Whom did the homunculi really send out on a hunt, here?

"Don't worry, I'm not allowed to kill you," she waved her hand at him. "Not yet, anyway. You're too useful at the moment. But one day, you won't be, and all I have to do is bide my time." Her eyes dragged up over his form, taking in every last detail in a single, sweeping look.

He'd have liked to have some witty comeback to that, some retort to put her back in her place, but, even hidden as they were, her eyes kept him quiet. She had every intention of killing him one day, he could see that much in the way she stared him down. And with a fierce determination like that, he may just have to watch his back.

"A good hunter is quick," she gave a grin that would have had a lesser man running at the pure, murderous intent behind it and settled deeper into her seat, "a better hunter is patient."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Just wanted to make a small note here that, yes, this will be following the plot of FMA:B almost completely. It will, however veer off in its own direction at some point, although saying any more than that would give it away. Just making the point that while this runs along canon with the exception of an added character, this will go other places with other plot points as to not be predictable.

Also making the disclaimer that I don't own FMA/FMAB nor the song lyrics used at the beginning of each chapter.

Anyway.

* * *

 _Until you die for me, as long as there's a light, my shadow's over you_

Chapter 3:  
 _Of Bombers and Hunters_

* * *

"I see," he huffed. "He managed to escape us again, did he?" At this point, he was getting a little too frustrated. Either the men he was sending to capture Scar were incompetent, or they were missing a vital piece of information.

As per usual, his partner's attention was divided among everything in the room. And possibly outside of it, too.

It was her strongest skill - being able to focus on so many things at once. Nothing snuck up on her, and nothing surprised her. Her reaction time alone made her a dangerous enemy, her muscles always ready for a fight, her eyes always ready to find a weak spot, her mind always riddled with both battle and exit strategies.

Now, she siphoned off most of her attention to stare at the map on the wall and listen to Kimblee's conversation with the soldier and train operator. This was her job, after all. She hunted people who thought they could escape, which was the excuse the homunculi had given Kimblee for her tagging along, but Dani knew better.

They were testing her. Testing whether or not she could follow orders when she had every reason not to. As much as she'd love to take Kimblee down and watch him slowly bleed to death at her feet, she would wait. She could wait forever if she had to, but one thing was certain: if anyone got to kill Kimblee, it would be her.

She was brought out of the thought by said man approaching her at the map, again standing a little to close behind her. If he was trying to get under her skin with proximity, it wouldn't work.

She was a patient woman, but explosive. When angered, she could go off like a supernova, blindingly bright and devastatingly violent, and when it was over, nothing would be left but an icy, silent void. Getting her to that point, however, was a rather difficult endeavor. Keeping a level head kept her safe and, more importantly, alive.

There were times, though, when she found him too close to her, even when he seemed to make a point of keeping a physical distance between himself and the others. She still wasn't quite sure what, if anything, to make of that.

"This is an accurate map of the west area, right?" He questioned the operator whose office they'd commandeered for the time being.

"Uh," he stuttered then faltered further when Dani let her head fall back to look at him impatiently. "Y-yes, sir," he finally managed.

"This is the spot where he was last sighted," she spoke up, but it was rather obvious she wasn't including anyone but Kimblee in this conversation. "Right here," she tapped the point on the map with an index finger - and just maybe leaned back into him a bit.

"And West City is there," he responded, adding his own finger to that point on the map and leaning forward until they were rather snuggly pressed together. "Scar and Marcoh disappeared somewhere in between the two places."

Her finger traced the train route only to stop where the map indicated turns through the mountains. She didn't have to look up over her shoulder to know he was thinking the same thing she was - the sigh he released just above her temple confirmed their shared thought process.

"Trains slow down when they turn," he began, moving his own finger to tap next to hers on the map, "but how much speed do they lose?" She knew the question wasn't directed toward her, but it took a moment for the other two occupants of the room to notice.

"Is it possible the two we're looking for jumped off?" She questioned before they could answer, both alchemist and bounty hunter turning expectantly toward the train operator.

"It would have been very dangerous, sir," he began, only to be cut off.

"Dangerous but possible, yes?" She crossed her arms over her chest as if the risk behind the possible happening was utterly irrelevant.

The green-clad man simply nodded.

"You don't say," those words were more to himself, so Dani chose to ignore them and speak over the last syllable.

"So, after they jumped off, which way did they go?" She asked the question aloud, although it was obvious no one else in the room had more of an answer than she had. "North or south?"

From his shadow, she could see the incline of his head, eying the north part of the map. Again, it seemed they were on the same train of thought, so she felt no need to further speak.

x . x . x . x . x

"If he was going to jump from the train, this is where he would do it," she looked up at him from her crouched position. "The engine's speed would decrease here."

"So, what we need to know is which way he headed after reaching this point," he continued for her, honestly amazing himself that they completed each other's thoughts like this even though they'd only known each other such a short amount of time.

That old, familiar feeling of strange kinship began to form in his chest as he watched her stand, the movement graceful and elegant yet somehow powerful and dangerous. Like a tiger stretching before it pounced. Oh, he already wanted that tiger on a leash, perhaps even more so knowing, as he did, that she was simply waiting for the perfect moment to maul him.

Kimblee was not a man who got close to people. He preferred mindless slaughter to some pointless bond, but, like anyone, there were some to which he was inexplicably drawn. Those green eyes from Ishval, the woman in front of him now asking about Scar sightings without paying him any attention. There was a violence in both of them that called to him as a kindred spirit, beckoning him to revel with them in wake of destruction and ruin. And now, as ever, he was entranced by the signal fire that burned within her.

It was her irritated sound that pulled him back from his thoughts to the task at hand. So, it seemed there were no definite reports of Scar since they last track of him.

"That's odd. Up until now he's been deliberately conspicuous," he mused.

"He left the trail on purpose. Now we have to figure out where he really wanted to go," his partner wedged herself between him and the crate with the map spread upon it. He'd have ripped her away, but, as he glared at her, he noticed her size for the first time. Too short to get a good look at the map over his shoulder, since the top of her head just barely passed the limb. So, he let the action slide and made just barely enough room for her to fit in front of him.

This was a position they were finding themselves in a lot lately, not that he could honestly say that it bothered him any. She was a physically attractive enough woman, and her personality had him thrumming already, anyway. There were worse things he could be forced to do than press up against her back, and she seemed perfectly content with where she was.

"I have a report, sir," a young soldier jogged up them and saluted. "There was a small boat that was stolen near the river about two hundred meters south of here," the brunette informed them as they continued to study the map in front of them.

"Was it Scar?" The soldier's superior asked, but he was the only one that turned to the young man.

"There aren't any eye witnesses to confirm that, sir," he went on, standing stiffly at attention as the older man crossed his arms. He was soon ordered to look into the matter, which he did with little more than a salute and a "yes, sir".

"Reporting, sir," another approached - blond this time - and saluted, although not as stiffly as the first. "We've talked to an old man who lives nearby that claims to have seen a suspicious pair of men who were heading west."

Another superior turned to this young man, but, again, neither Kimblee nor Dani paid any outward attention to the report.

"Could be our targets. Take a search party to investigate," was the order given and followed, but still, the two un-uniformed members of group had their doubts.

"Is there something wrong?" One of the two officers finally asked of the two.

"I'm not sure yet," Kimblee answered for them both only to be cut off by the female.

"On the map," she began as if no one had been talking around her, "it looks like there's a road near here that leads north. There," she pointed, tapping her finger on the wrinkled paper of the map. "What is that?"

"It was an old logging road that passed through the mountains to the north area," her question was answered by some officer whose name she didn't care to even learn let alone remember. "But there were too many rock slides so they had to close it down." His brow lifted slightly as if questioning her authority on the matter. "Why do you ask?"

"Just show us the road," Kimblee responded first, although slightly disappointed that he hadn't let her snap at the other man. But time wasn't on their side here, and they needed to catch up with their targets, not waste time tearing into a subordinate.

"I-Yes, sir," the man saluted as he and the other officer began to lead the way.

It wasn't a far walk to the road in question, but Kimblee allowed the tracker of the group to take point in front of him. He'd have liked to say it was only because of her tracking skills and that it had nothing to do with the fact that he simply liked watching her move and work, but he wasn't one to lie to himself. Just the way she walked had a small smirk plastered to his face. She had this predatory grace to her movements, the natural aura of a hunter that had even the soldiers shooting wary glances in her direction.

Her head remained canted ever so slightly to the side, as if she was listening for something, and if he were a betting man, he'd put money on her eyes darting this way and that for any signs of travelers having passed through. Every step was calculated and silent, every sound had her head snapping in its direction. Her muscles flexed continuously from what he could tell, her fingers twitched at her sides the way a hunting dog's nose twitched in excitement.

There was no doubt as to the kind of creature she was. She a predator to the bone, a tiger on the prowl for her prey. There was a raw power in her movements, an elegance in her posture that left no room for doubt as to her intentions. She was there to hunt and to kill, and everyone knew it.

Despite not seeming to be paying any attention to the soldiers that walked in front of her, she stopped at the same moment they did without falter as the small party came to a large landslide obstructing the road before them. She continued only when Kimblee approached the rockslide to further investigate.

"There are several other places further along where rockslides have closed the road," they were informed, and Kimblee could practically hear the gears in his partner's mind churning.

Her head canted slightly, eyes flicking upward to a small stream in the rocks then down again to the groove at her feet. Crouching, she ran her fingers along the path, finding it still slightly damp.

"The water's flow here has been changed," she commented, gaze following Kimblee as he, too, crouched beside her.

"Yes, sir, does that mean something?" One of the officer's questioned, raising a brow at them.

A low chuckle escaped the alchemist at Dani's quietly muttered "amateurs" as he picked up a stone to study it. They were both thinking the same thing, he was sure of it, only further confirmed when she looked up to him as if expecting something from his inspection of the rock in his hand. He smirked to her and showed her what he found.

The resulting laugh was one of pure anticipation; she was nearly shaking with it. When they both stood simultaneously, two of their four companions took involuntary steps away from her. Kimblee, however, rather enjoyed the predatory glow that radiated from her and reveled in her fierce eagerness now that they were on their targets' true trail. She was every bit the hunting hound pulling and gnawing on its leash for a good chase, and he basked in the glory of being the one to hold that leash. At least for now.

It was the confused looks of the two officers that had managed not to look so frightened that ruined the mood. Kimblee could read the word _amateurs_ in the female's expression as if it was her painted on her face in bright, bold, flashing letters, so he elected to explain their findings to them himself before the twitching of her eyebrow could turn into something a little more messy.

"For an alchemist skilled in destruction, clearing even this big of an obstacle would be a simple task," he urged, hoping at least one of the other men in the group would have the intelligence level to piece it together.

"Sir?" The word in the form of a question shattered that hope, and Kimblee felt his own eyebrow twitch minimally in irritation.

"And it would be equally simple for him to destroy the face of a mountain to once again block this road with a rockslide," he continued, pushing on until the faintest glimmer of understanding blossomed on the face of the closest soldier. He handed the man the rock he'd picked up after the others gave still-questioning sounds.

"Transmutation marks?" The officer gaped, unsure how the other two managed to pick up on it so quickly.

"Send the soldiers north," he commanded, a smirk tugging on his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Fight scene? Fight scene. Also where things start to get a bit different

* * *

 _Fastidious and precise, she's a killer queen_

Chapter Four:  
 _Of Train Cars and Automail_

* * *

Kimblee's arms crossed over his chest as he sat, one leg over the other, watching the blue-clad soldiers scurry this way and that. Whether the irritation on his face was due to the incessant ringing of the phone and the other men clambering around him or the female perched on the desk directly next to him, wasn't outwardly apparent. She herself had her legs crossed, and elbow digging into her top knee in a way that should have been uncomfortable, her chin resting on the upward facing palm.

He'd say he was surprised by her outward calm, but he wasn't. For as fierce as her mere aura was, she was every bit the patient huntress as she'd claimed to be. Now that they had the trail and just had to wait for the next sighting, she had completely stopped fidgeting.

"Any new information?" He questioned, shifting ever so slightly.

"Unfortunately, no," came the response, followed by an irritated sound from the female. Apparently, she preferred to be the one trying to gather intelligence personally, rather than waiting around for others to do it for her. Kimblee was beginning to think they should have done just that. "But we're doing everything we can," the blond male defended, only earning him another click of the tongue from Dani.

"Amateurs," Kimblee didn't even need to hear her to know the word that ran through her head, but the way she grumbled it like an expectant child had a small smirk tugging at his lips.

The other man went to speak - and finally give Kimblee the chance to see the woman's wit at work - but he was almost immediately cut off by a young brunette tearing into the room and approaching them. From the corner of his amber eyes, the alchemist could see his partner stiffen ever so slightly in anticipation.

"There was a man fitting Scar's description seen at the station one stop ahead, sir," the young man spoke even before his arm came down from his salute. His eagerness to please would have had both partners grinning like wild dogs at him if he hadn't just brought the best lead they had.

"Are you sure about that, soldier?" His superior questioned him before the other two could. They needed to be sure, wasting time chasing false leads would only give Scar time to disappear completely.

"Absolutely, sir," he spoke with enough conviction to convince Kimblee and Dani. "Eye witnesses saw him getting aboard a Military bound for the Briggs station."

"Was anyone with him?" Kimblee inquired. If not, they had a problem. As much as he wanted to right his mistake of leaving a survivor, his orders were to find Marcoh and bring him back to the homunculi. When that was done, he could kill the Ishvallan - and then track down those green eyes.

"A middle-aged man with black hair," was the immediate answer, "just like the report says."

 _Perfect_ , he thought to himself as he smirked. From beside him, he could feel the female's eagerness crashing into him like ocean tide.

"I'll have the train stopped at once," the higher ranking of the two uniformed soldiers offered, causing Dani's head to snap up at him with an indignant look.

"Tell me you're kidding," the look on her face almost made it seem like she was begging him not to be that stupid, but her tone said she was demanding it.

"That won't be necessary," Kimblee interjected before a fight could break out between the soldier and the non-military female. "We don't want him jumping off the train again, after all," he explained to the officer, whose face contorted when his superior sided with the small woman on the desk.

She waited for Kimblee to stand and move out of the way before she hopped off the desk, bringing his hat with her to hand him. His slight bow of the head served as his thanks as he placed the hat atop his head, tugging the rim to situate it just right.

"Alright," he grinned in a way that had the female next to him visibly shivering as if the mere word meant he'd clicked her leash off. "From now on, Dani and I work alone," he just barely caught the smirk she sent toward the soldier who had kept questioning her, "I don't want you people getting in our way, do you understand me?" His face was a smooth grin, but his tone sneered.

x . x . x . x . x

The train sped faster than was strictly regulation, but still easily within the safety threshold. Kimblee could just about see the adrenaline coursing through his companion's veins as their train neared the one they chased, but the closer they got to their target, the more still she became. There was no nervous tic for him amuse himself with watching, no anxiously bitten lip or fumbling fingers. Despite her eagerness for this hunt, she didn't so much as bounce her leg.

He had expected pacing, like a lion stalking its prey, but she sat completely still, muscles at the ready, eyes sharp under their covering. She had stalked them to this point, and now she was ready to pounce, just calculating the distance and force needed.

She waited behind him, leaning against the wall of the train while he slid the door open and hung out of it. They had no real plan here, something she had readily voiced her disapproval with - and to be fair, he whole-heartedly agreed with the sentiment - but without knowing exactly which car their target was in, they couldn't make any real plan of attack.

"We're jumping over to that train now, so match its speed," he ordered the engineer, Dani pushing off the wall to ready herself to jump after him while the other male gave an affirmative.

As the trains' speeds matched and they steadied, he took the first jump, only using one hand to steady himself as he landed, the other holding the hat on his head. When he stood and moved out of the way enough, Dani followed him, being the more cautious of the two and using both hands to ensure a smooth landing.

Each of them raising one hand, they gave the silent signal for their original train to back off, which it did without a hitch.

He entered the first train car they came to first, leaving her to trail behind him, but she fell short at the doorway. The larger door of the train car was wide open, the cold air still whipping past them both. She may have stored the detail away, had it not been for the fact that there was only one other person in the car.

They were looking for two people - one being a violent warrior. There only being one here meant one of two things: this wasn't whom they were searching for or it was a trap.

Instinct told her it was the latter, and her instincts were never wrong.

Her eyes - still covered by sunglasses despite it being quite late at night - warily watched the other door to the train car as her companion approached the other figure in the car, antagonizing him the entire way. She'd have enjoyed his toying with the other if something weren't telling her that something was very much off about the situation.

As she suspected would happen, Kimblee found the figure wasn't their man, and instead, the Ishvalan came in through the larger door, no doubt having waited for the right opportunity to strike. _Clever_ , she approved of the tactic silently, but so far, neither of the two men noticed her presence. This, she could use to her advantage, and she slipped out of the train car to wait behind the door she'd entered from, already being able to tell the coming fight would make its way toward her rather than the other way.

Pulling one of her smaller knives from her sleeve, she used its polished surface as a mirror to watch the fight, to be better prepared when she needed to step in. And she most certainly would have to step in, by the looks of it. Kimblee was doing a good job of avoiding the darker man's lunges, but he was slower than she remembered him being. From what she'd heard of the scarred man's reputation, he'd need to be faster, his movements needed to be smoother, more natural. He had to think too hard, it was no longer simply reflex. She supposed years in prison would do that to him, but still, she had expected more.

How was _she_ supposed to enjoy killing him if he wouldn't put up a good fight?

"The murderous Ishvalan I've heard so much about," she heard her companion speak, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. Damn, she'd forgotten how much he loved to talk in the middle of a fight. "So good to see you," he mocked, and though she couldn't see his face, she was sure there was a grin.

The cloud cover moved enough draw away most of the shadows, forcing a curse from her lips as her hiding place was diminished. Still, she didn't miss the face of that Ishvalan, or the recognition that dawned there.

 _Huh, and I thought he'd died,_ she thought to herself, but wasted little time further thinking about it. After all, _she'd_ survived that blast; it wasn't hard to believe someone else might have as well.

The recognition in and of itself worried her - Scar's motives had been clear from the beginning, revenge against the State Alchemists, and Kimblee was infamous for the destruction he'd caused in the war. His remembering Kimblee's face was enough to make him fight even harder against him, but the hate and anger that swelled within the red-eyed man had Dani cursing yet again. While angry could mean reckless, it also could mean determined. Rage gave a person renewed strength in a fight, something the alchemist clearly wasn't ready to combat just yet.

 _At least it won't be boring,_ she inwardly sighed to herself.

Of course, she was sure, this all probably amused the hell out of Kimblee.

There was a near-inhuman roar of anger, and a blue flash that couldn't have been anything other than alchemy. Dani almost swore aloud as she ducked to avoid the following explosion.

Definitely not going to be boring, this fight.

Now, she was out in the open and could easily be spotted if one was looking, but she slipped downward behind what was left of the wall of the train car, crouching there. Scar's back was to her now, so she wouldn't be able to read his intentions on his face, but his rage was also blinding him. His sole focus now was on Kimblee, giving her all the openings she could have wanted. But she needed to wait, to find the right moment. If she moved while they were speaking like this, he'd notice her without much difficulty.

When Kimblee's hat covered his eyes, they darted toward his female companion. Finding she was still intact and crouching behind the debris, the look on her face told him to keep Scar busy to allow her to flank him. A nice, simple plan that should work out fine and almost made him grateful to have a partner on this job. Almost. So, long as she didn't get in the way, everything would work out.

"So, you're Solf J. Kimblee, are you? Known as the Crimson Alchemist?" Scar questioned as the other male stood, unaffected by the previous blast. "Tell me, do you remember my face?"

"Oh, I remember you very well, indeed," he smirked as he straightened further, "you were in the convent district of Ishval, isn't that right?" A rhetorical question, Kimblee already knew exactly who stood in front of him. "And those people with you," he dug deeper, knowing he was hitting a trigger - just the trigger he needed to drive the other into a mistake, or distract him enough for the tiger lying in wait - "they were members of your family, yes?"

That scarred face contorted further in rage, but it wasn't enough, Kimblee need to push harder, land a verbal blow that would send the other man reeling.

"I remember another fellow who looked just like you, except he had glasses," and _there_ it was. Red eyes gleamed murderously at him, fists clenching at the darker man's sides. It wouldn't take too much more now. Kimblee squared his shoulders in gloating pride, adding a mirthful chuckle to his voice as he continued. "Of course, it's hard to see a family resemblance when someone is losing tons of blood and screaming in agony."

A low, guttural growl was the only warning Kimblee had before the other lunged, but he was nonetheless prepared for it. The slimmer man evaded each movement, but it was clear he was no longer used to this kind of fight. As he passed the remains of the train car where Dani had been hiding, he found that she was no longer there.

She had seen the two moving toward her spot, and so, with alarmingly precise timing, she'd rounded the metal corner between Kimblee's leap past her Scar's following lunge. The blonde-haired woman now crouched directly behind the Ishvalan, ready to pounce whenever the moment arose.

As the smoke from the most recent explosion cleared, Kimblee became aware of what had already been obvious to his companion: his fighting skills were rusty. Years in a cell hadn't done anything kind to him and far worse than just decreasing his muscle tone. He let his hat go, he could afford a new one, and he knew he'd need both hands for this.

His hat flitted past his opponent, which gave the red-eyed man the perfect opportunity to reveal and throw the pipe his hand straight towards Kimblee.

But the Ishvalan hadn't counted on Dani or her reflexes. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop him from spearing Kimblee with the pipe, but she _could_ change the trajectory of the weapon to one a little less lethal. In an instant, she pounced, her heavy boot planting itself hard into the back of her target's knee, dropping him to that very knee even as he rounded on her.

A surprised, pained gurgle and cough informed her that the makeshift javelin had found and impaled its target, likely pinning him to the train car, but she couldn't let that distract her. Despite having watched the fight until now, she still hadn't expected the Ishvalan to be as fast as he was as he twisted even before his knee fully touched the floor. His hand came up, catching her by the throat in a grip that was too loose to kill her but tight enough to hold her in place.

He turned to Kimblee again, dragging Dani along as he approached. She didn't struggle, instead she relaxed her body completely and closed her eyes, focusing solely on the grip he had on her and the way he moved. Again, it would come down to timing.

"Good to know you remember my brother," Scar growled out, his hand twitching around the female's throat. "I'll be sure to show the same courtesy and remember your girl," he sneered, closing his grip just enough to make Dani's lip curl.

But as Kimblee looked over her face, he knew that snarl wasn't in pain, but in anger. She was biding her time again, and she would strike when the other least expected it. The white-suited man couldn't help but chuckle at that - and, of course, the implication that he gave a damn about the threatened female.

"I think you've got the wrong idea, there," he choked out, an undertone of amusement managing to color the words. "But it is quite the shame that twice now, I've failed to kill the same Ishvalan mongrel when I've had him in my sights," he gritted, brows twitching downward.

Through the pain that seared through him, he gave a sharp-toothed grin of pure anger and vicious intentions. That look contorting his features that way, the lethal way those amber eyes gleamed in the moonlight even through agony, sent a delighted shiver down the woman's spine, even upside down, as she was, and bent backward until even her flexible back ached in protest with a large hand around her throat. She didn't know if Kimblee caught it - although she honestly hoped he hadn't - but when the man holding her looked down at her with pity, she knew Scar had felt it - and mistaken it for something far different that what it was. Oh, she'd have to remember that look, keep it close and never let it fade from her memory.

It was the same look deep green eyes had once given Kimblee, and that he, too, stored among his most treasured memories.

The clap of the alchemist's hands echoed in the rushing wind, breaking the spell he seemed to have over her. In an instant, she knew his plan and devised her own accordingly.

Red sparks danced around the connection of the two train cars until the metal exploded into a cloud of fire and smoke and debris. For a split moment, Scar's hand around Dani's throat went a too slack to hold her. Using the force from the explosion and bringing a foot up then kicking downward hard toward the Ishvalan's leg, she took advantage of the stumble in the man's footing to wrench out of his grasp, snap upward, and slam her hand hard into his throat. Her hand and foot made contact with their intended targets simultaneously, sending him sprawling onto his back.

"It's terribly humiliating to have to leave when we were just getting things started here," he called out to the two on the separated train car, "but leave him alive, Dani. We're going to settle this time, Ishvalan!"

The wind carried his voice as the two parts of the train moved further apart from one another, only further enraging the white-haired man. He kicked up to stand and scream his opponent's name, an act at which Dani simply rolled her eyes and sheathed her knife.

"You're just entertaining him when you do that," she commented absently, sidestepping the attack it earned her.

"Why follow him? If you know what's he's like, why serve him?" He questioned her as he went to lash out at her again.

"Tch, serve him?" Her brow rose as she easily evaded him. "You got it all wrong," she gave him an almost pitying look as she countered his next move with a hard knee to the stomach. "I follow him because I'm going to kill him, eventually," she explained, her head canted slightly to the side. "There's only hate between the two of us."

At that, the larger man stopped his attacking to stare at her.

"Then why are you fighting me? Why not help me kill him before?" The confusion was easy to read, and, while to Dani it was the simplest thing, she hadn't expected him to understand.

"Because if he's not dead yet, he likely will be soon," she backed away, having every intention of getting off that damn train car and into the snow - something she was sure she would be more comfortable fighting in than he would be - but not wanting to turn her back on him and give him an opening. "That means, _you_ killed _my_ prey," she snapped, "and I'm rather possessive over my hunts."

He blinked a few times at her, and she sighed.

"Oh, I get it," she clicked her tongue at him; "you think I hate him for Ishval, right?" She laughed and just shook her head at him. "I hate him for one little thing he did in Ishval, not the massacre and not because he whacked his superiors. I hate him for one explosion, and one explosion only. For being an _idiot_ , and getting me sent home early," she growled, green eyes gleaming as she removed her sunglasses. "And I'd been having such a good time before that, too," she sneered, pocketing the sunglasses in an inside jacket pocket.

"Having a good time?" He repeated, hand clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. "You're just as much of a monster as he is!" He roared as he launched himself at her.

She, as Kimblee had been, was at a physical disadvantage in a one-on-one with Scar due to her much smaller stature. She was, however, more agile and had just enough of a speed advantage to catch the fist thrown at her with a hand to the wrist. Using the larger man's momentum against him, she wrenched his arm behind his back in a painful lock that likely dislocated the shoulder.

"Unfortunately for you," she mocked, "this monster is currently lurking under _your_ bed."

With a well-placed heel to the spine, she had him hurling forward while she skidded backward, putting a fair bit of distance between them. It still wouldn't be enough to pull one of the two guns she kept on her, but it was enough to give her time to assess his charge and plan accordingly.

But he didn't bull-rush her as she'd expected. Instead, he came in from the side, landing a good hook to her rib cage that had her wheezing sharply as she stumbled back. Red eyes widened as he heard her laughing as she spat blood behind her - a testament to the rib, which had already been cracked from debris from Kimblee's explosion, that the dark-skinned man managed to break.

"Oh, I was hoping you'd be a good fight," she gave a manic laugh, his baffled daze the perfect opportunity to duck low and slam an elbow into his side with enough force to make him stumble. "You haven't disappointed!"

They traded hits for far longer than he'd expected with such a small woman. He hadn't thought she'd be just as insane - if not more so - than Kimblee and hadn't planned for such a violent flurry of strikes that would have been devastating had he not been able to block or counter most of them. But there was one detail he managed to gain that ultimately gave him the upper hand.

Despite the fact that she was clearly right-handed, most of the kicks she sent his direction was delivered from her left leg. They were often quick or low enough that he couldn't catch her, but the strikes from the left leg were somehow heavier than those from her right and let out a barely-audible, metallic tang when they made contact.

That left leg was almost certainly automail.

She came at him with powerful kick from her left, one that he was sure would probably put him out of the fight if it connected, but he was ready for it, waiting for it, even. Blue sparked from his fingertips as the leg neared the side of his head, alerting her to the fact that he'd activated the alchemic array tattooed on his arm - the one that would destroy the limb.

Her eyes widened as she put it together and tried to come up with some sort of counter for the move. She was already bleeding from multiple places and her breath wasn't coming the way it needed to - likely because of the punctured lung that would eventually collapse - but she'd not die here. At least not alone.

Gritting her teeth, she didn't even try to move away, sacrificing the leg entirely rather than the force behind it. He caught the leg, as she knew he would, but there was always a minuscule delay between the activation of the array and the reaction itself. In those few, split seconds, she used his hold on her leg to lift herself enough that when the metal leg did, in fact, shatter like glass, she was about to catch him with her opposite leg in the side.

This kick wasn't as strong as the original, but it was unexpected and cause just enough jarring in his footing as she dropped onto her only remaining knee to allow her flick a small blade from her boot. Eyes nearly glowing in anger, she caught his hamstring with the boot knife, slashing clean through most of it. It wasn't a mortal wound, but it would be enough to ensure he wouldn't follow her.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she spat out, pushing herself to her foot, "I'm going to go find a telephone and get my fucking mechanic."


End file.
